War on the Home Front
by BlackWindButterfly
Summary: Prince Roderich Edelstein and knight Gilbert Beilschmidt have returned to the kingdom after four years. War has started to brew on the horizon, but in this case, the fighting force originates from the inside. Human AU, Various Pairings
1. Chapter 1

**Please note, this is a sequel for the story "Kneeling at Your Feat".**

* * *

His lung burned with the forced air of a phlegm filled staccato session of coughs. The carriage bounced and jarred sharply, throwing him carelessly to the side so that he fell against the door. He pressed a frail and slender hand to it before pushing against it to right himself. The brunette coughed again into a closed fist. Inhaling through his nostrils deeply once the fit was over, the prince, as he was of royal blood and the current heir to the throne, nudged his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. Leaning forward then, he reached over the empty seat across from him to slide open a small metal hatch to speak with his coachman. "Gilbert, do you know how much longer it is until we arrive?" he asked.

"Take another look out the window, _Prinzessin_," the albino called back as he turned his head to catch the slightest glimmer of near violet irises as the light hit them the split second before the prince leaned back.

Glancing out the window, Roderich saw familiar stone buildings with loose tile roofing, a few of them even using thatch instead. He saw the faded shutters open wide so that several sets of windows were open to allow the sun into the homes of the peasants who were currently bustling along the dirt road, weaving in and out of buildings and bazar stalls. He peeked his head out further to see the mighty stone and marble fortress that closed itself off from the provincial life of the people with a wall and iron gate. The city itself was surrounded by a similar wall in order to protect the capital city of the kingdom from an invasion.

With a harsh command from the makeshift coachman and a tug on the reigns, the horse halted. A few of the guards glanced down at the unknown and rundown carriage to spot a very familiar mop of white which belonged to the officially declared palace guard captain. They shouted down and politely asked him to wait before they scrambled to arrange for the gates to be opened. Gilbert cackled, the sound emitting from his voice similar to a hissing cat. The iron blockade parted with a loud creak that hinted of rust due to weathering after years of use. Once the telltale creak had faded, he snapped the reigns and the horse advanced a short way before he stopped it again in the courtyard.

After securing the reigns, Gilbert hopped down from his perch with a grunt. He strolled around to the door of the carriage before turning its tarnished handle. It flew open and he extended a hand to the prince. The prince accepted the assistance and stepped down, using their joined hands for balance as he all but jumped down. Once he touched down, Gilbert tugged on him and hugged him close, wrapping his other arm around his waist to keep him there. A coy smirk crept onto the knight's face. Prince Edelstein frowned at the display. He opened his mouth, but his words were replaced by a harsh cough. His head slumped against Gilbert's chest, damping the other man's shirt with the sweat that was starting to bead on his forehead. The albino's smile evaporated in an instant and he set a hand to Roderich's forehead. "You're on fire, Little Master," he muttered.

Roderich pushed his hand off with a stubborn groan. "I'm fine," he tersely protested.

An echoing clap sounded with the heavy footfalls of someone storming outside. Furious, the blonde cleared his throat, sufficiently separating the two of them in an instant. Roderich straightened himself up before glancing at his cousin, who he had left in power until his return. "_Wohin sind Sie gewesen?_" Vash demanded.

"I told you in my letters," the prince replied coolly. "I never strayed out of the kingdom and my important decisions were written in them as well. Technically, I still held my position."

"For starters, you were gone four times longer than you said you would be. Not to mention, the point of your "holiday" was to make you come to your senses and straighten out," Vash argued. He crossed his arms, daring Roderich to dispute his point.

Roderich's face burned as the blood rushed to his cheeks to color them like a ripe tomato. He found that his cousin's wording left a great deal to be desired. "I have-"

"Roderich!" a young woman called. She had hiked up her long emerald skirts to run out to meet him. Her long and beautiful honey brown hair danced behind her. As she embraced him shamelessly, her skirts fell again; her hoopskirt then pushing them back so that she could break personal space boundaries.

"Elizabeta," he greeted his fiancé as he tensed in her arms, never actually returning the gesture. She noticed this with a frown. "How are you?"

"Wonderful," the princess of Magyarország replied, grin returning once more. "You seem well."

"I've been better," Roderich mumbled.

Gilbert seized the moment to wrap a guiding arm around the prince's shoulders. "Actually, ve have business vith the court physician," he cut in.

"We aren't finished her, Beilschmidt," Vash growled.

Gilbert paused to hum as though he were thinking. "Hmm, _ja_, ve are." He ushered Roderich inside then, all but shoving Vash aside before they entered. On the way to the kitchen, the best place to gain information involving those in the castle, they passed Prince Edelstein's other cousin, Lili. She gave them a hurried greeting before hurrying past them in an equally rushed fashion to meet with her brother.

When they entered the kitchen, they saw a dark haired woman adding seasoning to a large pot that was boiling over the fire. She hummed to herself as she stirred her rich and meaty concoction. She turned away to fetch another ingredient from the many cabinets that lined the walls of the room, but when she caught sight of Gilbert, she dropped the jar she had pulled out. It hit the ground and shattered, the pieces darting all over on the floor along with the peppers that were originally the jars contents. She darted around the debris to catch Gilbert in a hug. "Gilly! It's been too long!" He returned the hug halfheartedly as he though specifically on his reason for having come there. "And _Monsieur_ Edelstein, it's a pleasure." She tugged at her skirts in a courtesy.

"Hey Franny, do you know vhere Über Brows is?" Gilbert asked.

She knitted her own brows together in question before she thought on his description, or rather his nickname for this person. Suddenly, it clicked, signaled by the "oh" she mumbled before nodding. "_Oui_, 'e's in 'is study. Why? Do you need 'im?"

"_Ja_," Gilbert told her, not really explaining why it was that he needed to see Arthur. He turned Roderich around. "Tell Bella zat I said "_Hallo_" und I'll talk to her later." He pushed the prince forward and out the door. Françoise waved them off. She waited until they were gone to begin picking up the glass shards. Despite the fact that the peppers had fallen on the floor, they could be washed and then she would use them later.

"I can walk without your guidance," Roderich grumbled as Gilbert kept a hand to his back, lightly ushering him ahead still.

Gilbert snorted as though he had been told a great joke. "Alright, vhere's Arthur's study?" he asked, pausing in the middle of a hallway at junction. Roderich pointed down the left corridor. Pleased, Gilbert smirked. "You'd be right, if ve vere going to your room."

Roderich sighed, defeated. Apparently, he did need Gilbert's assistance to navigate his own castle. The albino did not seem to mind all too much though. He led the monarch down the correct hall and toward the physician's study. Gilbert knocked on the door and he heard a few muffled curses on the other side. He had probably interrupted the other man, but at that moment, or really any, he could not care less. "What is-" Arthur started before realizing whom he was speaking to. "Gilbert? Your highness? I wasn't aware that you had returned."

"Ve just got back," Gilbert explained.

"How can I help you two?" Arthur shifted in the doorway, opening it an inch more.

Almost on cue, Roderich coughed harshly, a fist close to his mouth as his frame shook. When the fit finished, he wheezed before standing tall once more after having leaned against the arm still around his shoulders in order to keep himself steady.

"I see," Arthur mused, question having been answered. He opened the door wide to allow them entrance, disappearing in the same instance to the back of the rom. He scanned the many titles of his bookcase before pulling a leather bound book without name from off the shelf. Retrieving it, he motioned Roderich to sit on his bed. It was then cracked open as Arthur glanced at the sickly pale brunette before him. "I'll need you to cough again, if you don't mind."

Despite a slanting of his lip, Roderich complied, awkwardly forcing the cough. Leaning closed, Arthur closed his eyes to better listen to the barking cough that had tumbled out after the first few spurious coughs. He opened his eyes again before immediately skimming the book complied of the notes he had taken on the few medical exams he had given the monarchs, as he had started before the deaths of the king and queen, over the years. With unintentional aggression, he clasped the prince's wrist in order to pull it and, more importantly, the handkerchief he had been utilizing closer. His chartreuse eyes lingered on the phlegm that clung to the otherwise pure white cloth before immediately flying to his notes once more.

"So?" Gilbert prompted, arms impatiently crossed.

"Be patient," Arthur snapped. He set the back of his hand to Roderich's forehead. "Any other symptoms?"

"Not unless you count night terrors," Roderich muttered as he returned his snot rag to his pocket. Ever since he had left the castle, perhaps even before that, he had been plagued with warped memories of his parent's and their demise. Visions of a terrible future were frequent as well.

"Shivers," Gilbert added. "On and off."

New information in mind, Arthur flipped through his notes, pages soaring to one side and then the other. His eyes traveled at a lightening like speed back and forth as he searched through the details of King Joseph's, Roderich's father's, illness. A few of the symptoms did match, but this illness did not seem to be progressing as fast or with as much ferociousness. Besides, Arthur's theory was that the previous king had been poisoned slowly, but killed when Lenhard, the previous captain of the guard and his murder, had panicked. He assumed that Gilbert would have watched Roderich like a hawk after risking so much to save him.

Satisfied, Arthur snapped the journal shut. He placed it back on its shelf before pulling out another, this one filled with various recipes for potions and tonics. He sat it on one of his many tables, this one lined with an eclectic amount of herbs and the like, before turning to face the prince and the knight. "I'll have something for you later," the physician told them before strolling closer to Roderich. "I have one more thing to ask, just out of general curiosity. Would you mind if I took a look at the wound I stitched up during the coup?"

Fumbling with the buttons of his tattered and homely jacket, Roderich removed his overcoat. He tugged at the hem of the shirt beneath that to reveal the faded scar that had been left by a sword. Arthur ran a hand over it, earning a shiver and a withdrawing of his patient. Gilbert turned his head as he found himself unable to stare without a flood of guilt swallowing him. He usually did his best to ignore it since in all reality, there was nothing he could have done. "It's healed nicely," Arthur remarked.

Roderich nodded absently while he began buttoning up his overcoat again, having less trouble putting it on than he had taking it off. "I recommend sleep, your highness, and a great deal of it," the physician added. The prince strolled out of the rom and Gilbert moved to follow. "Gilbert, one last thing… do visit your brother when you have the chance."

"I vill," Gilbert told him before filing out. He jogged, not wanting the prince to have the chance to end up lost in his own castle.

* * *

"_Vati!_" a young girl called. She ran as fast as her little feet would carry her. Her clothing, auburn hair, and face were stained with mud, revealing how she had likely been spending her free time before she headed toward the blacksmith's forge. A young Golden Retriever, German Shepard pup colored black and orange with floppy ears and a pointed snout hopped behind her. "Mama!"

The statuesque blonde owner of the forge was not hammering away at his anvil that afternoon. He was currently chatting with his over ecstatic wife as she frantically waved her arms. The golden band on her left right finger, which he had made himself, flashed as it caught the light. A pair of azure eyes and another of hazel turned to meet powder blues as they heard their daughter call for them. "Vhat is it, Calandra?" her father inquired. He frowned though when spotting how filthy she had become in the time that she had wondered to the popular meeting place of the young children of the village.

Her mother, the woman who she obtained a majority of her features from, scooped her up as the toddler teetered over before setting her to rest on her hip. Calandra stilled in her arms. "_Onkel_'s back!" the little girl told them. "I heawd people saying that the pwince and _Onkel_ Gilbewt awe back!"

"Vhat about me?" said person asked as he strolled in, hands shoved into the pockets of his threadbare trousers. The Beilschmidt family all turned their heads to stare at him. Calandra's eyes widened as she finally saw the man she had heard so much about. He gawked, slowly blinking off his shock as he started at her. "You…"

"_Ja_, ve have a daughter," Ludwig answered the question hanging in the air, a certain pride in his voice. He wrapped an arm around his wife, tugging Margherita and his daughter closer, a genuine smile on his face. "Calandra Beilschmidt."

After a short period, Gilbert clapped his brother on the back. "Congrats, Luddy. She's beautiful, just like her _Mutti_." Wedging himself between husband and wife, he hugged Marherita, careful not to squish his niece.

"You can hold her if you want," the Italian maid told him.

Gilbert glanced at the little girl and she reached her hands out, curling her fingers as she returned the look with hopeful eyes. He laughed. "C'mere Cali." He then took her, lifting her up in the air as though she weighed nothing before hugging her close. "So, how are you, kiddo?"

"_Gut_!" Calandra exclaimed as though she were used to talking to her uncle.

"That's good. What does Luddy have you doing while he and Daisy work?" Gilbert shifted her in his arms as she started to slip.

"Sometimes I go with Mama, but Vati likes it when I stay hewe. I play with Silbewn," she answered. Judging on her speech impediment, he could tell that she had meant to say the name Silbern.

All of a sudden, the pup, who had been sitting off to the side barked loudly before rushing over to lick her bare toes. Calandra squealed, legs spreading in the air before she giggled. Two more barks sounded and Gilbert frowned. There should have been four dogs with the new addition, but he soon spotted the absence of Blackie. "Where's Blackie?" He assumed and the lowering of Ludwig's eyes to the ground confirmed it. The old dog had finally keeled over. "I'm sorry," he muttered softly.

"_Onkel_ Gilbewt, what's youw job?" Calandra asked, successfully switching topics in a way only children can.

Shifting the girl in his arms as he exposed his pearly whites, Gilbert lifted Calandra so that she was up on his shoulders. "I'm one of the prince's knights."

"You're a knight?" she asked in awe. He nodded. "That's so cool!"

"You bet it is."

"What's the prince like?" Calandra questioned. Setting her hands on top of her uncle's head, she peered down at him as she waited for her answer.

"Roderich?" Gilbert asked to confirm. "Vell, he's sort of a snobby priss. He's a nag and he isn't zat strong either. But, being a priss also means he has manners. Roddy's smart, but has no memory for anything. Oh, und he plays piano," Gilbert explained, summing Roderich up without realizing that he was probably close to rambling. Cali nodded her understanding as she processed the information. "Maybe you can meet him sometime."

While his description may not have put Roderich in the best light, it could not destroy Calandra's dream of meeting someone who was royalty. After all, Elizabeta seemed nice to her so she figured that Roderich was probably of the same nature. She grinned at the idea and Gilbert smiled back at her before setting her on the ground. He ruffled her hair, successfully making her bangs fall in her face. He told her to go play, telling her that she and her puppy could pretend to be knights. Both he and Ludwig had done the same when they were young, using their now deceased uncle's home to play in and then the streets upon his passing. Calandra called for her pet before hurrying off.

"I'm really happy for you, Luddy." Gilbert told his brother once the little girl was gone.

"Vhat about you? I haven't heard from you since the vedding," Ludwig replied. Gilbert had managed to return to the kingdom to see his little brother's wedding. It was something he was glad he did not miss despite the fact that he had to leave Roderich on his own for a week as he had refused to come along.

"Vhat do you _want_ to know?" Gilbert asked, not sure if Ludwig was looking for some sort of specifics. He also wanted to know what he would do better to omit.

"…I've heard the rumors, Gilbert, but I don't care either vay. I just vant to know if you're happy, if you enjoyed yourself vhile you vere avay," Ludwig replied.

Gilbert knew what his brother was initially referring to. He would have thought the comments would have come earlier, but the beautiful thing about his brother was that he was oblivious, oblivious and he knew when to hold his tongue. The albino closed his eyes and smiled to himself. "_Ja_, Luddy, I did and I am," he said simply. "Anything else?"

"How is Prince Roderich?" Margherita cut in, tilting her head some to the side.

"Eh…" Gilbert frowned. "He's sick, but Über Brows says he'll be fine in a few days."

"Aw, I-a hope he gets better," Margherita muttered with a frown. She doubted that her brother would be happy to hear that the prince had returned though. Lovino's work load had been rather light since the prince's absence. Although he would have been serving Vash, Vash seemed to have little desire to tolerate Lovino or his work ethic so he handled a great deal of work on his own.

"Me too…" Gilbert agreed. Yet at the same time, he could not help thinking on how long they had been away. Both he and Roderich would have to catch up on the current events in the kingdom along with their own work. Despite the fact that he was bedridden, Gilbert could already foresee that Roderich would push himself to complete his duty. When he mentioned coming back, Roderich seemed more set on assuming the throne than any other time Gilbert had spoken with him. It made him wonder what had changed during the four years that they were away.

* * *

Translation Notes:

_Prinzessin_ - Princess

_Wohin sind Sie gewesen?_ - Where have you been?

_Ja_ - Yes

_Monsieur_ - Mister

_Vati_ - Dad/Daddy

_Onkel_ - Uncle

_Mutti_ - Mom/Mommy

_Silbern_ - Silver

* * *

Author's Notes:

I know that I am still running the two spin-offs that I have promised all of you and I will be sure to finish them without spoiling anything in this (as best I can at any rate). However, I could not help being plagued by the ideas from this sequel so I finally broke down and wrote the first chapter. As was mentioned in the story itself, Gilbert and Roderich have been gone for a whole four years so they have a great deal of catching up to do.

I hope no one minded too much that I gave Ludwig and Margherita a little girl. The temptation was simply too much and I caved. Calandra is an Italian name meaning skylark. I was hoping I could find a name that was either Italian that sounded somewhat German or vice versa. This was the closest I could find and I'm rather found of the nickname "Cali." When she appears, expect to see it often because Gilbert is a trend setter. Also note that she isn't mean to represent any country, micronation, or even a city. She won't be the only new character to be added as I expect to at least have two more if not five. These five _will_ be nations, but I won't be revealing any identities.

Roderich so happened to be ill in this chapter. I almost feel bad for him given how I tend to torture him in a majority of my writings. However, it will be mentioned later that he was sickly when he was young so this really should come as no surprise to anyone else. Plus, I'm a sucker for a worried Gilbert.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I hope you found this to be a good start to the sequel and I hope that you will stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun rose in the east as it had since the dawn of time and would until the end. Although, it always seemed to conduct the birds to sing earlier in the fall and winter months. Rays of light peeked through the curtains and stretched across the bed sheets as time passed.

Scarlet eyes watched the steady rise and fall of the chest of the person who lay next to their owner. Gilbert's body had been wired after his many years as a squire and knight to wake at the crack of dawn. During his time outside of the castle walls, he often forced himself to slumber again. However, his return had presented him with obligations. Set on lying there at least until Roderich woke, he did not raise. He did roll over onto his side though, one arm already around the sleeping body beside him to begin with. Using the other, he combed gentle feather like fingers through his hair. Roderich dozed peacefully, curled up on his side, no shiver to be found. It could be noted that there was a wheeze like quality to his breathing though.

Gilbert leaned over to press a sweet kiss to the monarch's forehead. As he pulled back, amethyst eyes cracked open and languidly, Roderich blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Morning, Roddy," Gilbert greeted.

"Mmm, _Morgen_," Roderich mumbled, not entirely coherent. As he spoke, his lips brushed a hand. He shifted his legs underneath the covers, stretching them out before he rose from bed.

Hand still tangled in dark brown locks, Gilbert ruffled Roderich's mused and naturally straight hair, knowing fully well that it would irritate him. He moved to retreat before Roderich could retaliate only to hit the floor. The albino grunted as he hit the ground, managing to keep most of the air in his lungs since it was a short fall and he had expelled a majority of it before falling. He rolled and sat up to peek up from the edge of the bed to see that the prince had simply flopped onto his stomach with a groan as he came to hog the bed and covers. Standing, Gilbert shook one of his shoulders gently. "Hey, Little Master," he started. It was then that he realized it may be best to leave Roderich as he was. The past few days of traveling and the cold had probably finally caught up with the prince and he needed his rest.

Someone tapped their knuckled quietly against the door. Again, Roderich groaned. "Answer it," he muttered, lifting his head long enough that he could speak before laying flat with his face pressed against the pillow that Gilbert had been using.

"Yes, your highness," the knight replied, obviously mocking him. Gilbert answered the door, not really bothering to throw anything on overtop of his undergarments before he swung the door ajar.

Standing on the other side, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Honestly? Are there any mores scandals that need to be seen or given evidence to?" he asked before welcoming himself into the room. In his hand, he held a tattered bowl with chipped edges. "Your majesty?" he started, spotting the monarch attempting to hide under his bed sheets from the sunlight as though it threatened to turn him to dust.

"Hm?" Roderich hummed, sleep laced even in the single sound.

"I brought you something to ease your symptoms," Arthur answered as he approached the lump. He waited, arm extended, for Roderich to sit up. The prince rolled over before sitting up. He grabbed the bowl, set it to his chapped lips, and tilted it back so that the green liquid could slither down his gullet as he swallowed. Scrunching up his nose in disgusted, he then coughed as though to expel the liquid from his system.

"Sorry about that. It may not taste the best, but it is effective," Arthur explained.

"_Danke_," Roderich muttered as he returned the dish to its owner.

Arthur bowed humbly. "It's my pleasure. Enjoy your rest." He slipped out the door then, Gilbert closing it behind him.

"Are you going to breakfast?" Roderich asked.

"_Ja_," Gilbert answered. He strolled around the bed to retrieve the clothes he had shed the last night before crawling into bed. Soon it would be too cold for him to do so however.

Roderich peeled back the covers. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, but before he could stand, Gilbert boxed him in, standing directly in front of him so that he could not stand. The monarch frowned. "Gilbert, stand aside," he commanded.

"_Nein_, you're supposed to stay in bed," the knight argued.

"It won't exhaust me to go downstairs," Roderich attempted to rise then, but his strength failed him and he fell back, coughing.

"It won't exhaust me to go downstairs," Gilbert mocked, even going as far as to remove his accent. After spending time with the people, Roderich should have had the same one, but he was too proud to let his speaking grow lack in its articulation. "Stay here und I'll bring you up something."

Roderich opened his mouth to protest, but he heard the albino click his tongue in scorn. Gilbert briefly pecked his lips or rather, Roderich made it brief. "_You're_ going to become ill," he protested.

"I'm not gonna get sick. I'm too awesome for that." Gilbert flashed him a cheeky grin and the prince rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It had been awhile since he had heard Gilbert used that word, since he had become ill in fact.

After seeing to it that Roderich was taken care of and in bed resting, the knight met with the prince's cousin and current stand in. Vash narrowed his eyes upon spotting him, no accusations coming from his lips, but plenty coming from that one look. "You're late," he commented as if that were the only reason he appeared to be irritated. Gilbert started to explain, but before he could even manage more than two syllables, the blond cut him off. "I have someone you should meet."

The words seemed sudden and in a pause, Gilbert knitted his brows together. It did explain why Vash had said he needed to speak with him at any rate. He waited patiently for him to the lead the way. Shadowing him, he came to realize that they were headed outside toward the area reserved for the knight's training. Gilbert had nearly forgotten his duties, aside from protecting his prince. Roderich had told him once though that he was rightfully captain of the guard. He predicted that this may have something to do with that.

There were no sparring matches today. Sets of straw dummies had been set up and were now being attacked with various swords and axes. Other men had lined up to practice their archery on wooden targets painted red. Some of the men practicing were younger, likely squires that had been taken under different knights' wings.

A tall figure loomed over each area, gliding in between. He too had a young squire trailing after him. The boy was young, probably only thirteen at most and he seemed to be chatting his mentor's ear off. His mentor nodded every now and then, but did not seem to speak with him. Soon enough though, the knight turned to see Vash. Vash silently beckoned him over and the four of them met half way. The blond knight bowed to them both before standing at attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the boy, enforcing the idea that he do the same. Aside from being a head or so taller than everyone there, his very cerulean-eyed gaze was intimidating. A pair of spectacles sat on the bridge of his nose. His blond hair was short, neatly trimmed. "Oxenstierna," Vash greeted. He glanced down at the boy then. "Kirkland."

"Sir,'ve heard all about ya," he mumbled, voice a little higher pitched than Gilbert had expected. Kirkland, as the boy had been addressed, looked as though he were about to burst. Not being able to talk unless spoken to must have been a hard rule for him. It had been hard for Gilbert as well, but he had never followed it to begin with.

"I haven't heard a thing about you," Gilbert replied with a frown. Oxenstierna sounded as if he admired Gilbert, yet the albino could not recall seeing him before now.

"This is Berwald Oxenstierna, captain of the palace guard," Vash explained, despite how late it was to be telling about him.

Knitting his brows together, Gilbert waited for more of an explanation. He understood why he had been replaced, but not why Berwald had replaced him.

"I'm going to assume Roderich didn't tell you, how like him. We held an open tournament to decide who would replace you, it seemed the best option. Most of Lenhard's followers had already been weeded out." Gilbert seemed to cringe subtly at the mention of the previous guard captain. "Oxenstierna's performance was rather impressive," Vash explained.

"Sh- posh," Kirkland stammered, obviously covering up for what he was originally going to say. "He was amazing."

"'ll return the post though," Berwald cut in. He would not feel right keeping it from Gilbert, not when he knew what all the other man had done for his kingdom.

Breaking into a wide grin, Gilbert shook his head. He admired the gesture, honestly, he did. If Berwald was as skilled as everyone claimed though, he had a desire to see him first hand. "No, ve'll do somezing better. Ve'll compete together, vinner vill be rightful captain," he proposed. It was a fair arrangement after all.

Without hesitation, Berwald extended a hand. "Deal," he mumbled as he shook Gilbert's hand. They both squeezed firmly, a hidden promise there. Winner or loser, both would support and honor the other in their match. It was almost as if they had silently recalled the code of chivalry to one another and regarded the other as kin.

Vash rolled his eyes though, not seeing the point in it. He agreed, however, to allow it. It would no doubt be a show that many would come to see.

Gracefully, his long slender fingers pressed down on the glimmering ivories. The melody he coaxed out from the ebony beast was rather plaintive, but at the same time, thoughtful. Lids fell to shield his eye from view, yet he never faltered in his playing.

As engrossed as he was in the music, Roderich never heard anyone slinking closer to him. He could feel someone's gaze, but he ignored his paranoia and continued. Arms wrapped around his torso and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. "You're supposed to be in bed," Gilbert scolded, an unmistakable playfulness in his tone despite that.

"It was too unsettling to simply rest in the silence," Roderich answered as he continued to play, transitioning into something a little more sanguine. Gilbert supposed the statement was Roderich's roundabout way of saying that he had been bored.

"I forgot, you don't need rest as long as you have a piano," the knight teased. He chuckled before kissing the prince on the cheek.

"_Onkel _Gilbewt!" Calandra called. She had been peaking in on them. Seeing a chance though, she ran in and hugged her uncle as best she could, her arms going around one of his legs.

Roderich had been startled at first, slamming his fingers down on a sour note. He turned back to look as Gilbert withdrew his arms to pick up Cali. "Hey kiddo," he greeted her.

"…Who awe you?" she asked as she stared at Roderich.

"He's the prince," Gilbert explained.

Her blue eyes grew wide in shock. She had been imagining someone a little more like her father or uncle in build, but that did not mean she was disappointed. Again, her eyes wondered this time to the piano. "You wewe the one playing? It sounded weally pwetty," she complimented.

"Thank you, little one. I've had a long time to practice," Roderich explained.

"_Onkel _was wight. You do have mannews."

Roderich quirked a brow at Gilbert as if asking what else had been said about him. The albino merely grinned. With a roll of his eyes, Roderich returned his attention to Calandra. "He's told me a great deal about you as well."

"_Onkel_, why awe you so close to the pwince?" she asked.

"Because, _Onkel _Gilbert is married to his job," her uncle answered. He was referring to his duty to protect the prince, which was a twenty-four seven job.

"So you'we mawwied to the pwince?"

Roderich flushed as Gilbert burst into a loud bout of laughter. "You could say that," he agreed.

"…But what do I call him then?" she asked innocently. "He's not a girl like _Zia_ Isabel. Is he _Onkel _too?"

"_Tante_," Gilbert cut in. "Call him _Tante_."

"Gilbert – "Roderich started. A hand clamped over his mouth though, preventing him from arguing. Gilbert shifted Calandra in his arms so that he would not drop her. The prince huffed, ranting behind the hand, albeit, it was muffled rambling.

"_Tante_ Woddy!" Calandra declared with a giggle.

"That's right," Gilbert agreed with a nod, ignoring the daggers being glared at him.

Less than pleased, but having little other method to force Gilbert to remove his hand, Roderich bit down, catching a great deal of skin. Likely more shocked than hurt, the albino jerked his hand back with a hiss. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, don't encourage her to call me aunt. She shouldn't make it a habit to refer to royalty so informally and _you_ shouldn't go around insulating that we're married.

"She's just a kid. It's sort of cute," Gilbert argued after he had shaken the pain out of his hand. He leaned closer then, adjusting both hands to keep Calandra in place. "And c'mon, Roddy, you vish ve vere married. I'd make a great husband after all."

"The very idea is a scandal and heresy to the church," Roderich pointed out. "The last thing I need is to add that to the rumors that have already been floating about."

"What's a… scandal?" the young girl asked, tilting her head back to look up at her uncle.

His attention was strained though and he did not answer her. Gilbert found addressing Roderich to be of much more importance. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, almost sounding as though he were pouting when the words left his mouth. "I'm sorry that I upset you anyway. I stand by what I said."

Roderich set a hand to his forehead and rubbed it as though messaging out a headache. One may have existed at this point. Either way, he was lightheaded and becoming more agitated by the minute. "Gilbert, another time, please," he begged, not sure that he wanted to think much on their relationship at that very moment. It was an odd one at any rate.

As he was brushed away, Gilbert frowned. He understood the stress at least though. "_Ja_… I'm gonna go take Cali so we can go find her _Mutti_. Say bye to _Tante_ Roddy, kiddo," he told her, breaking into a grin. He had apologized for upsetting Roderich, but he had never promised to see to it that she stopped calling him that.

"Bye _Tante_!" Calandra called. She waved over Gilbert's shoulder as he headed out of the music room. Roderich sent them a half-hearted wave in return before returning to his piano with a sigh of his own. He had too much to think about already since it was about time he took responsibility for his kingdom. The last thing he had wanted on his mind was how lightly he and Gilbert would have to tread now that they had returned to the castle. No one had cared when they had been faceless strangers on the street, but now that they had their positions again, it would become the talk of the town without the distraction of the death of their king and queen.

* * *

Translation Notes:

_Morgen_ - Morning

_Danke_ - Thank you

_Ja_ - Yes

_Nein_ - No

_Onkel_ - Uncle

_Zia_ - Aunt

_Tante_ - Aunt

* * *

Author's Notes:

I am so sorry for the long wait on this and all my other fics. I hope you have all enjoyed the oneshots that I've been doing. I guess I needed a break for a little while. My mother recently did a medieval class though and I found inspiration had hit me again. School starts up for me in September, but I seem to update faster when I have school. Yeah, I really don't know.

As promised, I brought in some more nations. Originally though, I had not intended to have a Sealand. In my rough draft, he did not exist. While I was writing this though, I knew I had to add him. As a squire, he will be staying at Sweden's house to assist him and such. I love the idea of him as a squire. Although, I will remind you that his mother thinks he's at school, not that he's training to be a knight. I'm not sure if that will come into play in any of my fics, but I figured I would point it out.

I had to have Cali at the end of this. I really like her character. She's really cute and I see her as very curious about her uncle. It's no surprise that he already loves her to death. He does love adorable things after all. I do want to say though that I mean no offense to anyone when Roderich mentions this being a heresy to the church. Given the time period, which yes, I know is a little skewed, but it's really my own world rather than a real one, his reasoning is accurate. It would be taboo so please don't hold that against me.

I also wanted to ask something of all of you. Do you think the accents and such are annoying? I mean, I like writing speech patterns for various people, but I'm not sure if any of them are annoying. Yes, I can sometimes be inconsistent and for that I apologize, but I really hope they don't bother anyone. (I'm really worried since I introduced Sweden in this chapter and people always tear at others when his speech isn't right.)

Anyway, thank you for reading. I hope all of you enjoyed this. Hopefully, I will be updating something else soon. If not, you may end up with a few more oneshots and for that I'm sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

The stable door, although already slightly ajar, was pushed open. It swung, creaking to tell of how old the hinges needed oil. The young boy inside tipped his hat to the knight. His pause lasted only a second until he went back to shoveling hay into the various occupied stalls. Their occupants shifted about as they ate, making all sorts of noise as if they knew of the day's events.

"How's Engel today?" Gilbert asked the boy, the one who knew the most about the creatures present. Engel was one of the stallions kept for knight use. He was a speedy chestnut Thoroughbred, but his name was a misnomer. Engel had one of the worst tempers.

"Alright," the stable boy answered. He broke from his work to wipe an arm across a sweating brow as before feeding there had been cleaning. "Sir Berwald took him out. I think he plans to use him today"

By the sounds of it, Berwald was aware of the horse's speed and he must have been able to handle him. Gilbert frowned before attempting to recall another fast and sturdy mound.

"If you're lookin' for speed, the prince's horse, Chord, is o'er yonder," the castle staff pointed with a free hand at one of the closer stalls. Gathering his pitch fork in both hands, he continued in his work. In the stall that had been pointed out to him, a grey Hanoverian with a black colored mane milled about.

Gilbert grinned before patting the stable boy on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work," he told him in thanks.

After claiming a saddle, Gilbert approached the horse. He nudged the stall door open with a foot once he had unlocked it. Chord turned his head to stare at the intruder. He took a skittish step back with a buzz of his lips. Neither his master nor Jörgen, the stable boy, this man was a stranger.

Setting the saddle down, Gilbert closed and locked the door before extending a hand to the horse. Chord sniffed it after a few hesitant steps toward the albino. Gilbert set his other hand to the beat's side and gently pet him. "There we go," he cooed softly.

Once the horse seemed to trust him, he grabbed the saddle and set it on his back. He adjusted the straps. Hooking a hand through the reins after feeding Chord his bridle, Gilbert lead him out, offering Jörgen a farewell as he went.

"Good luck!" a call was heard in return.

Now in the open, Gilbert hiked himself up on the creature's back. Chord whinnied and made to trot forward. Tugging sharply on the reins, Gilbert barked out, "Halt!"

The stallion reared round and strolled back the way they had come. Patting his side, the knight sighed, "Just like your master, aren't you?"

Again, Chord took off. He galloped down the way despite several orders to stop. Soon enough, he slowed to slow on his own, coming to a halt in front of his master, who had been wondering about, only to be startled by his stead. He stared, expecting attention. Roderich reached out and pet his nose. Suddenly, Chord reminded Gilbert less of the prince and more of himself.

"Roddy," Gilbert greeted, honestly surprised to see him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Catching a horse thief it would seem," Roderich jested.

"I am not a thief!" the knight protested. "And that's not what I meant. You should be inside resting."

Roderich rolled his eyes. He absently continued to pet the horse. "I have done nothing but rest for the past week. I think I can survive being outside for a few hours. Besides, I thought it was a nice gesture to support you from the stands."

Nudging the horse to turn, Gilbert leaned down to the prince's level. "You can cheer me on from your bedroom. You can see the arena through the window," he argued.

With a stubborn scowl, Roderich crossed his arms and straightened his once relaxed posture. He lifted his nose an inch. Having watched the change in posture, the albino smiled to himself. It was such a haughty gesture, one probably drilled into the monarch, but it was also very Roderich. "It will be better for the people to see me there. They are aware I have returned, but they have yet to see me. Most of them probably see Vash as their regent still."

Gilbert dare not point out that Vash had made the competition official. No, instead, he leaned closer, making him more likely to fall off his horse. "Princess, mind giving me a good luck kiss?"

Roderich frowned. "I do actually," he admitted.

"C'mon, Roddy, just a peck," Gilbert pleaded. He watched as the other's eyes darted back and forth as though looking for someone who might be watching. "No one is gonna see."

Relenting, Roderich sighed. He stepped over to him. Setting a hand on Gilbert's thigh, more out of concern for his lover's balance, he glanced up before rising to the tips of his toes to kiss him. He felt Gilbert smirk against his lips before Roderich hurried to pull away. "Good luck," he told him, rubbing the thigh before reclaiming his hand.

Grinning, the albino nodded before taking off on the borrowed mount.

* * *

Dismounting, the albino called over one of the squires busy polishing a knight's armor. The young boy stared up at him in shock as he was called over, but realizing his foolishness for gaping, he hurried to stand before darting toward Gilbert. He politely asked the lad to watch his stead while he put on his own armor, promising him payment. As expected, his offer was eagerly agreed to.

Slipping inside the barracks to his own area, Gilbert soon came to be discovered that it had been cleaned. There was next to no one there, but after some searching, he managed to find someone who knew where his things had gone. He found the supposed chest and opened it to see slightly rusted armor sitting inside along with the padding that would go underneath. It would have to do. The lance he needed could be borrowed much like his horse. His sword would have no business coming with him today.

Slipping the padding over his form, Gilbert began securing it. "Delivery for a Mr. Gilbert Beilschmidt," a person called, peeking a head in.

"That's me," Gilbert called, turning around to face the person.

Standing in the doorway was a tall wiry man with thick and long black hair. His eyes were a deep shade of hazel, leaning more toward brown than green in shading. Upon seeing Gilbert, a smile of sorts tugged on the corners of his mouth, reminding the albino of Roderich when he attempted to hide one of his own grins. The man lifted a hand to reveal the package that he was holding, one that was wrapped loosely and rather tall.

"Otto!" Gilbert greeted excitedly, exposing his teeth and nearly splitting his face in the process. He padded over and hugged his old friend. The embrace was returned before he pulled away. "It's been so long… what brings you here?" he asked.

"I have something for you," Otto explained. He handed over the parcel then.

Gilbert quirked a brow, silently asking what it was. His fingers tugged at the loose string. The cloth around it fell to the ground, revealing a glimmering silver sword. Its basket handle was unmistakably familiar in make. An obsidian colored gem sat in its handle. "This is Luddy's work," he commented, able to spot his blacksmith brother's attention to detail anywhere.

His friend nodded. "It was. I asked him to make it for you a week ago after hearing of your return."

If at all possible, Gilbert's grin grew wider. "_Danke!_" he said out of his appreciation, but then he paused. "But why a gift now?"

"How else to celebrate our meeting again?" Otto asked. Gilbert slanted his lips, skeptical that was his only reasoning. Otto had to have stood to gain something. It seemed odd to give such a gift at that time, even if Gilbert was a knight likely to become captain. Sighing, Otto relented. "I wanted to ask you about something as well."

When he never further explained, Gilbert knit his brows together. "Ask what?" he prompted.

Otto shook his head. "Not here, not now. Meet me later in the afternoon, around four at the tavern." The knight hesitantly nodded and his friend smirked. "I look forward to seeing your performance this morning." He shook his friend's hand then before leaving all together, leaving Gilbert dumbfounded.

* * *

Hundreds of people had gathered in the tall wooden stands of the arena, decorated with the flags of the various regions that fell under Österreich rule. Most people sat under the appropriate banners, but many of them had come from all over. Traditionally, the royalty would sit in the box that bore the flag of the kingdom. Everyone roared with excitement, but they managed to grow louder as their preferred champion rode into the ring.

Berwald had been the first to trot in with his mound. His squire handed him his lance and he took it, setting it to his armor near his shoulders. Peter hurried away then to join the other knights who had come to watch and see who would be leading them when the contest was over. Never wavering in enthusiasm, the crowd cheered, a dull roar in the distance. They burst into loud cheers again as Gilbert rode in at a gallop, already equip with his weapon.

From the stands, he saw Roderich clapping, adding subtly to the din. He paused though to cough. Once the fit had finished, he rose to a stand and the crowd quieted. "Ladies and gentleman," he shouted in order to hopefully address everyone there. "It is my pleasure to join you this morning for a contest between two of the greatest men in the court. It is my understanding that they have reached an agreement in which the winner shall become the honorary head of my guard. So, without further adieu, if the combatants will find their positions we may begin."

Both knights lead their horses to opposing sides of the arena. Lances lifted, erect and prepared to knock the other down. After a glance to each combatant, Roderich gave the signal for them to proceed. Forcing their horses to maximum speed, Berwarld and Gilbert raged toward one another. Contact was made, but neither fell. Again, they prepared before charging on cue.

Sneaking a peek toward the stands, Gilbert watched in silent horror as the prince teetered and fell back. His lance lowered and his eyes grew wide. Seconds after, he felt a hard impact as his chest was made a target and he plummeted to the ground, gasping for air. The people's attention was not on him though. They gasped as their prince fell and Vash, who had joined him in his box along with Lili and Elizabeta, lifted him off the ground and fanned him. Upon setting a hand to his forehead, he found that his cousin felt as though he were on fire.

"Out of my way!" Arthur ordered. The court physician parted the masses and made his way over to them.

"Here, lemme help ya up," Berwald told Gilbert. He must have dismounted while the knight's attention had been elsewhere. Taking the offered hand, Gilbert stood once more. Berwald followed his gaze as he watched the prince be carried away. "You goin' after him?" he asked.

Gilbert shook his head. "It's not my place," he whispered, sounding awfully broken as he spoke.

A sad and knowing smile fell on Berwald's lips. "Go see 'em. You can report to me later." And with that, the albino slipped off. Seeing him gone, the people cheered for their victor.

Arthur grinded his teeth together before snapping his head back as he stood up. "Would you stop hovering?" he barked. All at once, four people stepped back. Most of them apologized, except for Vash, which seemed to upset his sister.

The physician's patient lay on the bed, sweating through his bed sheets. His sleep was fitful, but at least his shivering had stopped. He mumbled to himself as he tossed and turned.

Noting all the symptoms, Arthur attempted to think of the correct potion. He might have to cross reference in order to see that he choose the right one. Still, he was unsure if he should include the fainting or not. It seemed to be from exhaustion, but he could not declare that as his diagnosis.

"Do you know what's wrong?" Elizabeta piped up. Truthfully though, she looked the least distressed in the room, even counting the prince's usually apathetic cousin.

While he wanted to give her an affirmative yes, Arthur knew that it was not the answer. "He's sick," he stated. Really, an amateur could tell that much. The only problem in all of this was that he was unsure how to proceed. He needed to know all of the prince's ailments to treat them, but he probably would not know all of them until he treated them.

"That much was obvious," she grumbled.

Lili nervously fussed with the pink ribbon in her hair before speaking up herself. "Will he be alright?" she asked voice hardly above a whisper.

The physician nodded. "Yes, that much I can assure you, Miss." His work was done there for the time being. He needed to return to his study to check previous records and work on something to at least treat some of the problem. "Now, if all of you would be so kind as to leave." His tone was forcefully polite, revealing that it really was not a choice for them.

The royals filled out as requested. Arthur sighed, but upon spotting a streak of white of the corner of his eye make for the door, he reached out and grabbed Gilbert's sleeve. He must have been hiding in there this whole time so that the other's would not bring their attention to him. "You stay," he said, holding Gilbert's gaze with his own. "I don't know if you could hear it and I know that the others couldn't… but he's asking for you in his sleep."

Frowning, Gilbert glanced down, sparing the hand on his arm a second as he did so. "How am I going to help?" he asked. He could not offer any medicine or anything of that sort. In being so wrapped up in the day's events and persuaded by the stubbornness of the prince, Gilbert had neglected the duty that he put above all others, protecting Roderich.

"I don't know," Arthur muttered in his irritation. "I left a bucket of water here. You can dab his forehead. Ask Françoise to make him soup. Whatever you feel is appropriate. Just stay here with him. I imagine he'll come to soon enough and he'll want to see you." Gilbert complacently nodded and Arthur released him, moving to step out himself. "I'm sorry about the competition," Arthur called over his shoulder.

His frown deepened. Gilbert had not even thought on the fact that he had lost. Yes, he might have acknowledged it for a moment, but it paled in comparison to what his mind was really focused on, taking care of Roderich and his meeting with Otto.

Pushing all of that aside though, he eased himself onto the bed next to the monarch. It gave with his weight, but its main occupant did not seem to mind. Spotting the bucket of cool water that Arthur had spoken of, Gilbert grabbed the rag sitting in it and rung it out before dabbing it against Roderich's forehead. His brow crinkled and he turned his head away from the cold. The rag was dabbed a few more times before a groan of discomfort returned it to the bucket. Gilbert sighed and turned his attention to the window. It was early yet, probably only slightly passed noon.

The body in the bed rolled while it slept, but not soon after that, a hand came to rest over top of one of the one's that Gilbert had set on the bed. He jerked his attention down to Roderich and a rush of relief washed over him as he saw that his eyes were open. "What happened?" Roderich asked softly, tired and horse.

"You passed out in the middle of the joust and Vash carried you up here. Arthur left a bit ago to go figure out how to help you," Gilbert said, giving him the abridged version.

"I guess you were right then. I should have stayed inside," he muttered. There was a silence before he spoke up again. "Who won?"

"Berwald."

The prince's lips pulled into a frown. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Gilbert never had to say that his illness had been a distraction to him; Roderich simply knew. He fought for a second with the hand on the bed, taking it up before lacing his fingers with the other's and giving the hand a weak squeeze.

"Don't be. There are other things that are a lot more important to me than some position, Roderich," the knight whispered back.

Pulling his hand from Roderich earned him a dejected and open gaping mouth. Then again, the open mouth could have also been due to the fact that Roderich had difficulty breathing through his nose. Contentment replaced the dejection as Gilbert lay down on top of the covers next to him. The cloth barrier did little to stop the prince from curling up next to him, either out of need for the body heat despite the fact that he was burning up or a want to be closer out of affection if not both. As his nose brushed against the albino's neck, Roderich breathed, "_Ich liebe dich."_

"_Ich liebe dich auch," _Gilbert added. Avoiding lips, he pressed a kiss to his lover's forehead before said lover closed his eyes and shifted underneath the covers, ready to return to sleep.

Never falling asleep himself, the knight lay there and bed next to his prince. It was a social taboo, but he had never really cared about that, especially not the first time that he had done it. Roderich accepted it and often times he wanted him there anyway.

When it came about time to climb out, Gilbert felt guilt claw at his heart. He needed to see what Otto wanted to speak about though and that required leaving Roderich alone for awhile. As he moved, his bedmate started to stir, but after shushing the half asleep royal, he managed to slip away.

* * *

Translation Notes:

_Danke!_ - Thank you

_Ich liebe dich._ - I love you.

_Ich liebe dich auch_ - I love you too.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I know it's taken me awhile to update this one as well. For that, I apologize. I can only do so much though and my inspiration isn't always the greatest. I tried to make the knight information as accurate as I could without being overbearing. My mother teaches stuff about this sort of thing all the time, probably why I love it so much. The horses should both be from this area as well, but they weren't really all too important. I just did that for my own personal satisfaction.

The character Otto is intended to be a nation of sorts. He's Bradenburg, but probably not a very good one. It seemed most fitting to having him there though as the friend from Gilbert's childhood. I won't reveal while he's here though.

Regardless, if you liked nothing else, I hope you enjoyed the fluff at the end. I'm a fluff monster so I feel that you can never have too much fluff, but I know some of you aren't too big on that. I promise angst in later chapters though because you need an even dose of both to be a happy fangirl/fanboy.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

Perched on one of the stools at the bar, Otto sipped at a pint of ale. His hazel eyes followed the owner as he buzzed around, delivering food and drinks. He was a stout man, rather sluggish as he squeezed between tables and chairs to see that each person received what they had wanted. All the while, he reviewed what he needed to tell Gilbert, calculating when he could say it without being overheard.

The knight slipped in through the front door with a new crowd. It was later so many were starting to fill in for their evening drinks. Many of the people of Österreich were nothing sort of alcoholics though, drinking from the early hours of the morning until they passed out. He hopped up on the stool next to Otto with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm a little late," he told him, not giving a reason for his lateness.

"It's fine," Otto told him with a dismissive wave of his hand. Gilbert had not told and he did not ask. He sipped at his drink again, eyes going back to following the corpulent man as he maneuvered about. His eyes darted to others nearby as well, watching for those who might be listening.

"So… what did you want to talk about?" Gilbert inquired with a lifting of his brow. Those shifting eyes made him feel uneasy. There was just enough green in them to remind him of a predatory wild cat.

"Hush, there's no rush," his friend assured him. He was mostly stalling for time though.

They sat in silence, only breaking it when the tavern owner came over to ask Gilbert what he wanted to drink. Gilbert sipped at his drink as did Otto. The albino went through his much faster though and he soon asked for another. Otto was unsure if he wanted Gilbert drunk or not for this conversation. Having him buzzed might serve as a benefit though. It would cloud his judgment some or at least take whatever was distracting him off his mind. Gilbert was there, but obviously distracted, worried. He waited until that expression faded from his face before speaking again.

"When was the last time you were in Preussen?" Otto asked with a quirk of his brow.

Gilbert hummed, trying to think. "About seven months," he answered.

Otto nodded. "So you aren't aware?" Before the knight could ask what he meant though, he continued. "There are plans for a rise up. The people are growing restless under the rule of Edelstein. Power is unstable enough now for them to fight for their own independence."

With a clench of his jaw, Gilbert inquired, "So are they planning on riots and then a war? They can't handle it."

"On the contrary, Pruessen can. We are the military stock market of this kingdom. Our men have been training for some time. Riots are trivial though; the plan is for a full out war. No one can seem to lead the army though. No one holds enough respect or power for anyone to follow them."

Otto never had to explain what he wanted, Gilbert knew in an instant, buzzed or not. "And you think that I can lead this army, am I right?"

"Who better to lead Preussen into a golden age than the nephew of Friedrich the Great? Beside, don't you think you owe it to your kinsmen? Not to mention, you have nothing keeping you here now. It's not as though you are the captain of the guard." Otto was trying to appeal to every point all at once and all of them were valid.

"No," the knight growled. "I'm not turning against the crown."

Sighing, his friend shook his head. "I thought you might say that. Think about what I said though. I'll be leaving at the end of next week. Find me and tell me your answer then." Otto set his payment for his drinks on the table as well as Gilbert's before leaving the tavern. Gilbert rushed after him, almost intent on a physical fight. The other seemed to have vanished into thin air and his anger ebbed away nearly as quickly.

* * *

Humming to himself, Arthur hovered a hand over the top of the books on his shelf. He had labeled the journals from previous men in his position with their names and the years that the book spanned through. "Ha," he said aloud as he set a hand to the top of one with the appropriate span of years. He tugged it out before strolling over to his desk, opening it there to begin scanning it over.

The research that he was performing was in regards to the prince's illness. He wanted to check for previous symptoms that might have matched. Searching through the book, he saw several different illness documented with their symptoms. Apparently, Roderich had been a rather sickly child.

"Artie," a voice chimed in. Two strong and slender arms wrapped around his midsection and Arthur jolted, nearly jumping into the air.

Turning around, he spotted his fiancée, a gorgeous woman with curly wheat colored locks that stopped just at her shoulders. Her eyes were the deep colors of the ocean and her bright smile was a ray of sunshine. "Amelia," he regarded her with a small sigh of relief. "What is it? I'm a little busy."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I know, but you've been working a lot lately. I just wanted to see what you were up to and see if maybe I could pull you away for dinner."

Arthur slanted his lips. "The prince is ill and I am not hungry at the moment." Amelia started to whine and he growled out, "Alfred, don't you have somewhere else you should be?" He completely forgot to sensor his use of names. It was not uncommon for him to yell at her using the name she was born with. After all, when they had first met, Amelia _was_ Alfred.

"Yeah," she told him, not missing a beat but sounding as though she was about to come up with some excuse. "But Mattie had to go. Franny handed the baby off to him so that she could finish dinner. Can I please just stay in here with you? I promise I'll be quiet." She set a hand over her chest and raised the other one as she promised.

Relenting, Arthur nodded. "Fine, but I don't want to hear a peep from you." He wagged his finger and in response she set her fingers to her lips before pretending she had zipped them shut.

She darted off then to pick up a chair and sit beside him. She read over his shoulder. Her attention wavered rather fast and she gave Arthur a light poke. He turned his head long enough to silently glare at her to stop before going back to reading. Amelia sighed before setting her chin on the desk. She blew at a rogue piece of paper lying about. It lifted a few centimeters before falling again.

Concentration all but shattered, Arthur stood up. "Fine! We'll go downstairs for dinner. Anything to get you out of my office," he roared.

"Yes," Amelia cheered, punching a fist into the air. She grabbed his hand before dragging him out of his part of the wing and down the stairs.

* * *

When Gilbert had returned, he stopped by the kitchen for his own dinner. Being friends with the cook made it easy to scam a better meal out of the evening. She was busy though, cleaning up while talking to her own husband who was fussing with a cooing baby.

After picking at his food, thinking over what Otto had said, Gilbert trailed back up the stairs to return to Roderich's wing. He knocked twice before opening the door. The prince had woken since he had gone and he was nudging around what was on his plate that must have been brought up to him. His head lifted though as he saw Gilbert. "Where have you been?" he asked with a lifting of his brow. He set his plate down on his bedside table.

"I went out for a drink," the knight answered as he plopped down next to him.

Roderich crinkled his nose in distaste. He failed to see the point in going out drinking at such an early hour. The idea of a drink though was understandable at this moment in time, one much later than the one he assumed Gilbert had left at. He dimly thought that he should have asked for some wine to be sent up with his dinner. Staring at Gilbert though, he frowned. "What's wrong?"

Despite his solemn look, Gilbert shook his head. He managed to feign a smile. "Nothing, Roddy," he assured him.

It was the monarch's turn to shake his head. "You're lying," he pointed out. Given the amount of time they had spent together, it took next to no effort for either of them to pick out a lie in the other. The smile fell and Gilbert stood up. He moved to take Roderich's plate, but the prince set a hand to his arm, stopping him. "Tell me what's wrong," he ordered, voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't worry about it," Gilbert insisted. "It doesn't concern you."

Roderich pulled away, startled by how harsh his voice had suddenly gone. His lips thinned as he drew them into a line. "I see," he responded, obviously still hurt.

His knight faltered, frowning deeply. He turned on his heels though and headed out the door, gridding his teeth. The issue certainly did concern Roderich. It was his kingdom that was threatening to fall with this new arrangement. His loyalties lay with him though, regardless if Preussen had been his home at a younger age. He would let his anger with Otto subside first though before confronting him. Gilbert needed to tread carefully if he wanted to be of any use to the kingdom despite his lack of position.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I apologize for taking so long to update and for giving such a short chapter for it. I felt as though this would be a good place to stop for now.  
This chapter was meant to only serve to reveal why Otto was really there and show the start of some conflict between Gilbert and Roderich. I can say that it is likely to get worse from here, but I can't say much more than that. Not sure how good my angst will be given me being a fluff monster and all.

Also, Amelia is Alfred turned into a woman. If you read the spin-off, Abracadame, you'll somewhat understand. It is unfinished though so I've indirectly given you the ending to it.

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

Heavy footfalls sounded as Berwald paced the length of the armory, having called all of his men to attention. Each one of them stood, back erect as they clasped their left wrist with their right hand. Gilbert was among the ranks and after the third lap, Berwald extended a hand to him to shake. Gilbert knit his brows together, confused by the gesture. Nevertheless, he took the hand and they shook. "It will be a pleasure to work alongside you," Berwald told him. Ah, so he was attempting to tell the other men that there would be no struggle for power between them.

Gilbert broke into a grin. "You too," he agreed before pulling away, returning to the ranks.

All of the men turned to look as another figure joined them. It was Roderich, who had stubbornly insisted that he be back on his feet again. He had spent the morning speaking to Vash. His cousin was serving as an adviser, a stepping stool until he found the rhythm of ruling once more. "May I speak with you, Berwald?"

The head of the guard bowed. "Of course, your highness," he told him before addressing the soldiers. "Back to work." Roderich had waited patiently, but once the men had been addressed, he started to head off. Berwald shadowed him.

Eyes following the prince, Gilbert mock saluted with two fingers, but the prince seemed to ignore him, already talking with Berwald about matters that were at hand. The albino snorted. It was not the best feeling to be ignored, but he let it go. His prince had more important matters to deal with for the time being.

"How soon can you have the nearest scouts go out?" Roderich asked once they were out of ear shot.

"Well, we already have a few out and things seem to be fine… but if you would require more…" Berwald trailed off. The prince must have had a different information source given how worried he seemed.

"How soon can you see to it that a group goes to the Bradenburg-Preussen area?" Roderich asked.

"At your command, sire. As soon as possible if that is your wish," Berwald replied, the ever obedient soldier. "Why? Is there something wrong there?"

"We have reason to believe from a few of my cousin's sources that there are plans for revolt in the making. I would like to believe otherwise, but he assures me that his source is trustworthy. It is better to check than give them the benefit of the doubt."

"Then it shall be done." Berwald excused himself with a bow, turning to return to his men.

Roderich called after him. "And Berwald, see to it that those who go are natives to the area. It would be best not to seem conspicuous about this." There was a nod before the knight dismissed himself.

* * *

Adjusting the pack on his shoulder, Gilbert trailed down the hall. Having been a native of Preussen, Berwald had ordered him to go with the others. He had been made the officer of the group, better than nothing. He had been alerted only to the fact that they were being sent out. Berwald seemed to be hiding the why, but the moment he had mentioned doubling up, Gilbert's palms had gone sweaty. They were going to look for signs of war, a war that Gilbert was fully aware of was on the horizon.

An enchanting melody sounded from down the hall, breaking through his dismal thoughts. He smiled some to himself. The simple melody had been the most beautiful thing he had heard in a long time. It reminded him of a time before all of this when he had only first become a knight. Even then, he had been pining after the prince. It was fitting now that he slip into the music room. He knocked though, warning Roderich of who was standing there.

"I'm heading out, Roddy," Gilbert reported.

This did not break the musician's concentration. It seemed like ages though until Roderich replied. "Then I will see you when you return," he replied, dismissively.

The albino frowned before coming to join him at the bench. Roderich shifted an inch or so as he was joined, but he made no other effort to acknowledge his presence. "That's it? No goodbye? No kiss?"

"Don't you have to leave soon?" Roderich asked off-hand.

"Not without a goodbye kiss I don't. Come on, Little Master," Gilbert tried. With a shake of his head, the monarch denied him. "Are you worried that someone will see?" He was also aware that their relationship was a taboo, but if no one was watching, he could hardly see the harm.

"So you are aware that this is wrong?" Roderich quipped.

Gilbert leaned away from Roderich, brows pulling together in shock as he held before the creature in front of him. It was as though Roderich had suddenly sprouted a trunk. "Wrong?" he breathed, the very word horrifying to him.

"Yes, _wrong_," the prince reiterated. There was no need for him to explain why. A king needed an heir; it was frowned upon by the church and as such no one would follow him. There were many reasons and all of them were implied in that single word.

Trying to hide any true emotion, Gilbert chuckled. It was a hollow and wavering sound, more forced than he had intended. "What's this really about, Roderich?"

A crash sounded from the piano as Roderich slammed his fingers down on the keys. He spun toward Gilbert, livid. "Perhaps the fact that you're hiding something from me, hm? Or that you insist on hovering over me with every move I make?"

"Well forgive me for giving a damn about you," Gilbert growled.

"Get out."

"Don't mind if I do." The knight stood up as the prince huffed. He adjusted his pack again before storming toward the door, slamming it shut as he left. Behind him, he heard the piano start up again. The notes were savage, aggressive. Gilbert grunted before quickening his pace as he headed down the stairs. He had time before he had to go and he wanted to say goodbye to someone who would actually care that he was gone.

"Franny?" Gilbert called as he entered the kitchen.

She looked far from having time to speak with them though. Her dark brown locks trembled down her shoulders as she rarely had time to put it up in the usual bun. She seemed frazzled, but it was not yet time for her to start dinner. No, Françoise had her time consumed by the cubby little baby that she was bouncing on her knee. He cooed, attempting to grab her hair even as she gently ushered his hand away. There was a blonde tuff of hair on top of the child's head.

"Gilly," Françoise answered, turning on the stool to face him. She frowned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, brushing her comment aside. "Nothing," he lied. "Just heading out to go home on business." Gilbert approached the door to the outside, only to be stopped by his other female friend and the little Italian he assumed must be courting her. Maybe that was why he had seen so little of her lately.

"Gilly~" she greeted. She too frowned and asked if there was something wrong. Lovino stood at her side for all of a moment before he muttered a goodbye. His place was not there and he knew it. He paused to kiss both her cheeks before heading off to probably go and avoid his work. Isabella waved after him. "Goodbye…" She turned to Gilbert again then. "But like I said, is something wrong?"

"I already said no," he growled and she recoiled, shocked at his tone.

"Oh… if you say so…" Isabella muttered. She winced as he walked out, slamming the door. She turned then to Françoise. Her grin returned as she held a finger out to the child who wrapped his hand tightly around it. "I wonder what happened," she mused.

"Trouble in paradise, I'm sure," Françoise replied. Gilbert was a rather easy going person and she rarely saw anyone grate on his nerves unless they were incredibly rude to him or a friend. Since that seemed very unlikely at that moment in time, she could only assume his bad mood had something to do with Roderich.

Her conclusion had been right, of course. She found out very quickly from a certain sweet little Italian maid that Roderich had taken to his piano for roughly an hour before heading to his study to pace as he always did when he was troubled by something. The maid had also mentioned furious mutterings. Gilbert had already left though, making it pointless to try and convince the prince to speak with him to patch things up.

* * *

The week passed, most of it consumed by traveling on horseback. Gilbert remembered all too late though that he had never given Otto an answer before he had left to return home. While stationed out in the town that night though, a hand clamped over his mouth and he was pulled back. He thrashed, but whoever it was released him after pulling him into an alley. "Otto?" he breathed, shocked.

"Come with me," his friend hissed before darting down the alley way. He stopped in front of a cellar door, glancing both directions before he opened it and climbed down, motioning Gilbert after him. Hesitantly, the knight went in after him. He traveled several more feet down than he had expected. Following Otto down a dim corridor, he eventually found himself in front of a small gathering of gruff looking figures, many of which he remembered from his youth. "Welcome to the Revolution, Gilbert."

Gilbert shook his head, waving a hand. "I don't-"

"Good to see you, Gil," one of the men greeted, parting from the table and map they had gathered around. He took up Gilbert's hand and shook it vigorously. The other three men came over and greeted him in the same fashion.

The knight glanced at Otto. "You do realize why I'm here with the other guards, right?"

Otto smirked. "Because Vash's source told him to expect revolts. There won't be any."

"Wait… I thought I heard rumors about one of his sources from the other men… That was you?" Gilbert asked, putting two and two together.

With a hum, he nodded. "Indeed. If you and your men see that nothing is going on, you'll be sure to leave Preussen and Bradenburg alone for the time being."

It was a horrible plan, brilliant, but horrible. Gilbert drew his lips into a thin line. He saw excited faces in the dim lantern light though. They all wanted him to lead them. If it had not been for the prince, he probably would have agreed to help them.

The prince, the very thought of him at that moment in time made Gilbert seethe. "Tell me what you plan on doing."

Grinning, the man who had first greeted him patted him on the back before he started to explain. Otto's plan had finally come to fruition. They had their general for the army.

The resistance met every night after the first. They all agreed that Gilbert should head back with the rest of his guard seeing as he was officer in command who would report back to Berwald. Otto would report to him at the end of every week until he could finally manage to come to Preussen on his own. None of the men had seen anything to report so his word would be taken, not that it was worth anything at that point in time. For the time being though, the kingdom of Österreich was assured that all would be fine.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I feel rather accomplished. I managed to get this one out not too long after the last time. Although, I hope none of this seems rushed. I am trying to move the story along without cutting anything out. I have no real idea where this is all headed, only a vague one. Hopefully, when this is all over, this one will be as good as the original, but I can only think about how sequels are never as good in most cases.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed reading and thank you for doing as such.


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